


Sandwiches and Other Practical Matters

by starlurker



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlurker/pseuds/starlurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little gestures mean a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandwiches and Other Practical Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the GK anon kink meme.
> 
> Original prompt: Brad/Nate - "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." He might not have the words, but you know what they say: actions speak louder. demonstrative love. (for those who want to know, the quote is taken completely out of context from Jane Austen's Emma).

Brad pressed the button on the answering machine to play the message. The machine was flashing 5:45pm. He was flushed and sweaty from running.

"Brad, it's me. Senator Gillingham just changed his mind on the funding, so our plans here at the office just fell through. I don't know what time I'll be home tonight. I'm sorry. What? Zara, I'm on the phone right now -- what? Brad, gotta go."

He felt a tension headache forming after hearing Nate's message, but he knew it couldn't be helped. So much for their week off -- the fucking drawback of being with someone like Nate.

Brad opened their cupboards and looked at the ingredients. Not too badly stocked, considering they weren't really home all that much. He put his iPod on the stereo dock and got to work.

* * *

The elevator stopped on the 15th floor at 8:30pm and as soon as the doors opened, Brad heard the loud, angry voices coming from the office to his left. The glass doors to the office opened and he saw men and women in suits running around, screaming on their phones and typing on their computers. He walked a straight path to Nate's office, which sounded quiet. Nate's assistant Zara nodded absently at him as she typed up a storm, her fingers clacking loudly. As soon as he walked in, he knew why it was quiet. Nate had a pinched expression on his face as he held a phone an inch or two away from his ear; Brad could hear yelling on the other line.

Nate smiled, surprised but clearly happy to see him. Brad dropped his bag in Nate's office, then poked his head out to talk to Zara.

"Hey Z," Brad said.

"Yes, Sergeant Colbert?"

"I have some whacked out Marine BS to discuss with Captain Fick. Can you tell everyone not to bother us? It's pretty fucked up, and I wouldn't have come if it wasn't urgent."

"Of course, Sergeant. I'll let people know."

"Thanks, Z. You're fucking awesome. I've told you that, right?"

"It never gets old, Sergeant. I'll see to it that you have at least 45 minutes. That's the most I can hold them off."

Brad went back into Nate's office and locked the door. Nate had just hung up the phone and was rubbing his eyes.

"I told Z to block everyone for 45 minutes," Brad said.

"I should argue with that, but I won't," Nate said, exhaustion leaking from every pore.

Brad picked up his bag and took out the contents: pasta salad without red onions (Nate hated them), smoked meat sandwiches without mustard but with horse radish (the result of a sandwich experiment a few days ago), two big bottles of water and fresh rice krispies, Nate's secret, guilty pleasure.

Nate looked up at him after he took out all the contents of his food. It was too open, too honest and Brad still found it difficult sometimes to look back, even after all this time.

"Dinner this good merits company," Nate said.

"What, d'you think I'd drop this and leave? Dream on, Fick."

Nate grabbed a bottle of water and drank half the contents. "You know that guy yelling at me over the phone?"

"Yeah?" Brad asked, getting two sandwiches out.

"Another senator. I begged and pleaded and it worked. Got an alternate source of funding."

"That's great. You didn't have to sell your soul, did you?" Brad said as he handed Nate a sandwich.

"I'll have to check the fine print for that." Nate took a massive bite and sighed. "Oh man, it's just as good as it was when we first tried it." He opened a can of ginger ale and gave it to Brad.

"So, funding?" Brad asked in between bites.

"Yeah, long story short, the funding will be confirmed this week, but we still have to negotiate the terms. I'm just waiting on my staff to pull together a few last minute things before I leave tonight."

Brad didn't sigh, but it was fucking disappointing. That meant Nate would have to work.

"Hey," Nate said, leaning forward. "I delayed the negotiations for the terms. It won't happen for another week."

Brad smiled through a bite of the sandwich. "Smart man," he said. Nate was too busy chewing to hear.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Some differences from the original post due to clean-up


End file.
